It is him in the mirror again. He is so beautiful and young and small, whereas I am the opposite. I long to touch him for real, instead of having our fingers separated by the wall of glass. But that is not to happen. He is the only thing lighting up my dim life. I have never seen my own face in the mirror before, only him. He is everything to me, although we have never talked properly, nor touched in any manner. We do converse, although it's awkward, and he only mouths what I say. I long to hear his voice.

I go to prepare for work. Another meaningless day, one where I trek to work, earn money, and return home. I see my workmates, but I do not observe them. They're just shadows in my eyes, never in focus. I return home that evening.

Why is he crying today? Has something gone wrong? He stands in front of me, running his hands through the slight waves in his hair. I feel lamely at my unruly mane, and watch him, tears in my own eyes. Why am I crying today? His slim form drops to his knees, and I follow suit. All I can do is mimic him, echo his movements as he does. After all, we are connected.

His fist comes up hard against the glass,; unusual strength for a man as delicate-looking as him. I feel glass shatter against my hand, and I look down for just a second. I have broken the mirror. Although I have done this, he remains standing, while I fall back, pain wracking my body.

The aggressor stares down at me; he looks at the blood dripping from his knuckles. I am in agony, the glass that contains me broken and in pieces on the ground in front of him. I love him. Why would he do this? I don't think that he means to have hurt me. Does he even see me? I think not.

It occurs to me now that perhaps, I have always been his false reflection, an image of all that he isn't. I am far too gruff to be the true reflection of a man so delicate and sweet, anyway. I catch his tears on my cheek as they fall, resting on the glass. I can only assume that his heart is broken, just as the glass around he and I.

My heart has always been broken, although I do not know if I have realised it all through the years. You can only stare at the love of your life through an unbreakable wall for so long before your heart becomes brittle and weak. And so, in that way, we are heartbroken together, even as I lay faint and weak upon the floor. He cries to me, but proceeds to hit me and harm the two of us. I pass away as the glass shatters and erases my existence from his mirror.


i dont know how to explain this. red velvet pancakes. ahahahhhh (wipes tear)